Several temporary shacks sat side by side in rows on either side of a street formed to accommodate them. Well, they were not shacks exactly, but would soon be for lack of maintenance. They had been built to house workers during WWII. After the war rental places were hard to find, and Mary, my resourceful bride, had asked around, found this place and rented a unit for us. It provided shelter and privacy. What else does a newly wed couple need?

We had a bed, a table, some chairs, two kerosene stoves, one for cooking and one for heating the place. Heating, that became a problem with winter coming on. The walls were very thin, with no insulation. I needed to bring a can of kerosene often for heat and cooking. There was no point in thinking about decorating. Mary worked at Hart Jewelers, so nobody was there during the day, and we were planning to move as soon as we found a suitable place to rent.

Again, it was Mary to the rescue. She learned that her cousin, Olive Early, and her husband, Cal, had houses around town that they rented. Early was a well-known name around the county. Cal’s father was Deed Early who left his print around the county with lightning rods. One would see a farmhouse with a rod at each end and say “old Deed’s been here”. I guess Cal took after his dad, only in rental houses. Fortunately, Cal had a vacancy at the time we needed it. It was in town on Albert Street. 

Albert St. was in the old, mature part of town. Many of the early residents worked at Lima Locomotive Works close by. Its huge, powerful steam engines pulled both passenger trains and freight cars loaded with coal or other stuff in all parts of the country. Most of Mary’s classmates had lived in this area of town, so she felt quite at home there. The house was a two story, family-sized frame house that had been partitioned into two apartments. A young couple, Woody and Juanita Frizzell, occupied the upstairs. Mary and I upgraded our abode to the downstairs apartment.

We lived here for the next five years. What happened here was mostly mundane and forgettable, but some events were memorable. Come to think of it, some of my life’s most important events took place here. For more than a year, we were merely newlyweds. Then we became a family. I had convinced Mary to give up her jewelry store job and become a homemaker. This proved to be a wise decision, for during this time our family grew to include four children, one of whom was yet unborn.

I suppose things were pretty much normal for a young couple with a very young family. I remember naked young bodies being bathed in the kitchen sink by their mom. I still see chocolate birthday cake covering the face of a three year old. Most of all I recall being awakened in the middle of the night by the cries of a baby, a call to the doctor, and the following hour. The baby, Catherine, had a fever of 105 degrees. Putting the child on the kitchen table, and following the doctor’s direction, we soaked towels in cold tap water and applied them to the hot baby. It seemed so cruel, and I was shivering before we were done, but it brought down her fever to a livable state. In a few days she was as good as new.

Against my better judgment I joined a bunch of young bucks at work to form a softball team. I’d never played before, so I didn’t know much about the game. I learned two things pretty soon. I wasn’t good at catching the ball, but I was very good at striking out. I thought maybe I’d get better, so I persisted. During one game, my attempt to catch the ball resulted in a stove up finger. The finger swelled some before the game was over. That night I realized the finger had a ring on it and had swollen so that the ring wouldn’t slip off, even with soap. I was awakened in the middle of the night, this time by the painful throbbing in my left hand. Nothing was left to do but to rummage through my toolbox and find a file to remove the ring. I played the rest of the season with a sore finger, but never again with a ring on it. As I recall I usually rejoiced when a game was called off because of rain.

We became good friends of our upstairs neighbors, and with a young couple across the street, Jim and Betty Cusick. They too, were busy starting families. Their children were near the ages of ours and played together amiably.

One day Woody came home smiling from ear to ear. He had a new product to offer his customers. Pillsbury was introducing brown and serve rolls. Woody was so elated that he seemed to walk on air for the next week. A baker at Pillsbury likely had accidentally taken a batch of rolls out of the oven too soon. Voila, a new product!

Even as a renter, I got a few free lessons in what it meant to be a householder. 

“These dingy walls could use a coat of paint,” Mary said one day.

“I’ll talk to Cal about it,” I said. And I did.

“I won’t paint it for you,” Cal said “but I’ll be glad to buy some paint. Paint’s cheap, it’s the labor that costs,” Cal never had a reputation of spending money. Guess who painted the room.

I left the house one night while Mary entertained a group of her high school friends. Home is no place for a husband in such a situation. Later, hoping I hadn’t worn out my welcome at a friend’s house, I headed home in the rain. Upon my arrival, I learned that the toilet was plugged up. Thoroughly! After the usual methods failed to unplug it, I took on the laborious task of disassembling the whole thing, and taking the bowl outside. I felt really foolish, sitting out in the rain at midnight, picking crap out of a toilet bowl. With the aid of a long screwdriver and a garden hose, I got it unplugged long after my bedtime. Before I could go to bed I had to put the bathroom back in shape and clean up.

“Honey,” I said to Mary, “Next time remind your friends to go to the bathroom before they come.”

The house was half a block from the railroad. Trains went by slowly with only short blasts of the whistle several blocks away. One steam engine, however, made a peculiar noise and passed late at night. The noise was, no doubt, made by steam discharged from valves or cylinders. No matter the source, it sounded like its wheels squeaked; we dubbed it Squeaky Wheels. Many a night our slumber was disturbed by old Squeaky Wheels. We usually went back to sleep. Other times, we were somewhat rested, and passion trumped sleep for a time.

Eventually the pitter-patter of three pairs of little feet made it evident that it was time to start looking for a bigger place to live. We would miss our neighbors and homey atmosphere, but new neighbors could be good and we could make a new place homey. 

I have often wondered how many of our children began their lives because of old Squeaky Wheels.